Things
by HolyMotherOfPearl
Summary: Hermione embraces a new passion, Ron trys too hard and Harry is depressed. Then Dumbledore lets him go to the burrow over break with Dudley in tow.
1. The Dark Room

Hey guys I'm trying this out again. I apologize to anyone who actually read my last fan fiction. I have started all over again, to make it really good one. Please make sure you read this story with the window as big a possible. In order to space it well on a big window, it is hard to read on a small one.  
  
It was at the end of my fifth year when I discovered the darkroom. After Sirius  
  
died I felt trapped in the girl's dorm and walked around the school. I went to the  
  
kitchens, but I found I wasn't really hungry. My feet took me to the library, but I didn't  
  
feel like having Madame Pince breathe down my neck. My legs traveled to the room of  
  
requirement. I paced in front of it thinking. 'I need a place, to relax, to do something  
  
other than sit around.'  
  
I knew fully well what would happen when the door appeared. I entered not  
  
really knowing what to expect, I hadn't really been specific.  
  
On the table in the center of the room there was a manual camera, film and a  
  
book. At the left side there was a sink with a thermometer some black plastic things and  
  
round white things. I wasn't sure what they were. A cabinet above the sink revealed jug  
  
upon jug of chemicals, each attached to a hose. By the back there was this round black  
  
thing that went into the wall. I stepped in side and saw "Revolving Darkroom Door"  
  
scripted on top in white. Tentatively, I pushed the door around and walked into a room  
  
with terrible orange lighting. I recalled the darkroom at my muggle school before I came  
  
to Hogwarts, how you should never turn on the lights, lest you ruin somebody's light  
  
sensitive paper. My eyes adjusted to the dark more quickly than I had ever imagined. I  
  
saw a big cubicle with a large machine in it and a couple drawers. There was a kind of  
  
radio next to it.  
  
Stepping lightly, I cautiously walked towards the machine, away from the source  
  
of most of the light. There was a switch on the wall panel that I hit and a bright white  
  
light burst from the apparatus. I jumped back, the panel had moved when I hit the button.  
  
I pulled it off the wall and set it under the light. It looked like some kind of timer.  
  
Bored, I walked over to the light and saw a sunken table with four large tubs. There was  
  
water running down the sides and in the fourth tub. The other three were empty. Under  
  
further examination, there were more jugs of chemicals underneath. I crawled out of the  
  
darkroom and sat against a wall.  
  
"Will this truly relax me? And why is it this particular hobby?" I wondered out  
  
loud. There was more stuff under the table. A big black trunk became obtainable and I  
  
took out some strange things. A can opener for one, a pair of scissors, a tiny paintbrush  
  
and a large one, little bottles of black water that said "Spot", an exactor knife, masking  
  
tape, a metal thing with movable arms to crop photographs with with, poster board, a  
  
ruler, a hair dryer, a role of paper towels, permanent quills, glue, black paint a square box  
  
and some magazines. I reached and pulled the big heavy volume down off the table and  
  
began to read. I kept reading. I learned what all those items were for and how to use  
  
them. I read until I fell asleep. An hour later my watch rang, nine o'clock. I jumped and  
  
ran all the way to Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Ron had not waited up for me and I  
  
climbed the stairs to my dorm. 


	2. The Broom Ride

. Disclaimer: Harry Potter is in no way, shape, or form mine.  
  
(???- Thanks! The plot line will be similar but the writing will be better I promise.)  
  
Hermione had been missing since dinner. Harry went to bed early again. Seamus  
  
and Dean had snuck a cheering charm into his tea. I'm glad they didn't notice when he  
  
turned their spaghetti into worms. Those two are determined to be the next Fred and  
  
George.  
  
With the fire crackling cheerfully in the common room, I was flying through the  
  
cold wet rain the had engulfed the grounds, a thunderstorm was brewing. I was avoiding  
  
the quidditch pitch, the thought of practicing my keeping not appealing in the least.  
  
The broom had carried me up about sixty feet when it started moving by itself. It  
  
lumbered around the castle, not allowing me too return to the broom shed. The clouds  
  
were swirling and I was getting scared. If the broom chucked me into the clouds, I'd end  
  
up being a great bloody splotch instead of a human being.  
  
The broom had passed over the greenhouses and taken me behind the castle where  
  
I had never been before. I had only recently adjusted to the broom's flight pattern, then it  
  
suddenly rose very quickly and I could see a person hanging out of a window, or rather  
  
standing on the ledge preparing to jump.  
  
The broom had stopped controlling itself and I didn't know what to. I didn't have  
  
too, the person jumped jumped suddenly and I only had enough time to put out my arms,  
  
"Malfoy?" I wheezed. The wind had been knocked out of me.  
  
"WEASLY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY BROOM? THAT'S MINE,  
  
YOU FILTHY THIEVING MUGGLE LOVER."  
  
Yes, it was indeed Draco Malfoy that had dropped into my arms and I was sorely  
  
tempted to let him go. And yes, it was his broom, but I didn't think he'd ever find out. I  
  
had been using it for a whole year, and no one knew. So I decided to lie. Just a little,  
  
"I didn't mean to take your broom," I said indignantly. "I was getting mine and it  
  
came to me and took me here. I didn't mean to save you. Had I known it was you, you  
  
conniving scumbag, I would not have bothered to catch you. And by the way what were  
  
you doing, jumping like that?"  
  
"None of your business, Weasel. Let me down at once, I order you!"  
  
"Well come on then! Get on the broom, it'll do you no good to be hanging from it like that!" I snapped back.  
  
He obliged and hung behind me on the broom. As I zoomed back to the broom shed I  
  
wondered why he had been jumping out the window but I thought nothing more of it  
  
when I looked into a window and saw Hermione sitting on the floor with the strangest  
  
assortment of objects I had ever seen.  
  
SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. GOSH DARN EXTRACARRICULARS! 


	3. Closets and Dust

Chapter 3: Harry  
When you lose a sock you get really mad at the little man that steals them from the wash (I just met him recently, twitchy little fellow he was). Multiply this feeling as many time as you can, add a lot of hate and murderous anxiety and that equals just about how I feel about Bellatrix Lestrange. One human being simply cannot reserve this tidal wave of emotion and lately there are leaks in the dam. Hermione has been avoiding me, wary of every outburst. She has retreated from sight. I have barely seen her since the funeral. I guess she is dealing with grief in a different way. Ron has stood by my side constantly, nearly to the point of exhaustion. He is flying now, giving himself a break. I can't bring myself to fly. Not on his broom.  
  
When we left school Luna told me I could see Sirius again. Through the veil.  
  
For now I will return to their house. Tormenting Dudley will never feel the same again.  
  
Even if I do not consider the Dursley's my family or their house my home I feel I am more unwelcome than before. Uncle Vernon has not forgotten the dementors. However this year is more bearable because they have chosen to ignore me completely, slightly short of feeding me.  
  
Dudley had returned from Smeltings the afternoon prior to me. I hardly recognized him. He was not skinny but not the size he had been before. He also saw it fit to give me his hand-me-downs from his old size. I put on a pair of pants in my bedroom. There was an extra yard of material around the waist.  
  
I have been "home" for an hour and there was nothing to do. I opened my closet and began putting my trunk in. It was particularly exhausting so I sat on it inside my closet and stared wistfully at the ceiling, imagining it was the sky above the Quidditch pitch and I was on the trail of the snitch and Sirius was in the stands.  
  
Before this I had never spent anytime inside my closet so you can imagine how baffled I was to see a trapdoor in the ceiling. Being the naturally curious person I am, I opened it up and climbed through onto a dusty hardwood floor.  
  
For my entire life the Dursley's had maintained that they had nothing to do with my parents or any of my family at all. Yet this room contradicted everything. It was my mother's bedroom from when my grandparents lived here.  
  
The bed was pushed against a window, the sheets flowering and old fashioned and extremely frilly. I walked unsteadily to the dark armoire and creaked the door open. There were shelves upon shelves laden with books and quills and clothes and robes. A crystal ball glinted at the top and a large Hogwarts trunk peaked out under some dress robes and a musty black cloak.  
  
Attempting to pull out the trunk, I pushed the cloak aside and out spilled a large roll of yellowed parchment. Losing interest in the trunk, I busied myself by spreading the sheets of paper carefully on the desk, as to prevent rips.  
  
To my great disappointment the sheets were blank, although I soon realized that tapping them with my wand might reveal the secrets of the parchment papers.  
  
The green ink spread quickly from my wand tip and a green curly writing at the top read  
Harry,  
I hoped you would find this room. As you probably have seen,  
dear Petunia is about as dear as a cockroach, she does not know  
of this room and I expect you not to tell her. This room is  
mine and I am sharing it with you my son. The artifacts in here  
are for you to use and no one else, for even the nicest of  
wizards have their own hidden agendas. I have kept this room  
hidden because it contains plans for a broomstick James and I  
have designed specifically for Quidditch. Use them wisely.  
  
Lily  
  
Krissy: Thanks for pointing out the grammar error. I have fixed it. By the way on the whole character thing, I think by the first two sentences it was really clear. My lone reviewer, I thank you! 


	4. Down

Hey Guys, a lone reviewer named Crystal refreshed my interest in my own story. Review, it will make my day.

Chapter 4, Hermione

I was home again. After my initial discovery of the wonders of photography had been

forgotten at school (stupid trunks don't fit anything), I was once again alone. My parents were so laid up by my tales of death and horror and Death Eaters, that they convinced

themselves that it wasn't at all true and I was telling stories and that I needed a

psychiatrist. Thankfully, I managed to convince them that it was simply a story I was

writing and they melted back into a peaceful and ignorant place in the world. I was

furious.

I spent my days studying—I was allowed to see my friends, but chose not to. In a million

years they could never understand, and I was afraid of lashing out, like Harry did. Harry

had been so distant. Ron was so utterly confusing and he seemed to be keeping

something from me. But I missed the both of them. So I studied. I would get through a

review of all my years. I owled Dumbledore and got my booklist early. I was a study

freak. And I didn't feel a bit better. Two weeks into my summer holidays and I had

finished all this.

I did not, in fact, reach equilibrium until I went to visit my cousin in Sussex. In reality it

was not so much as visit my cousin as to "Eat breakfast, take a bag lunch and stumble

across the Downs till dinner" as my aunt aptly put it. I took no book on these long

stumbles but my own thoughts and sort through them I did. To reach an understanding

with oneself however is much easier than trying to deal with a delusional, angry and grief

stricken teenage boy and I had two.

I was so immersed in my problem that I nearly fell of a cliff into the channel. As I

watched the waves smooth out the creases in the rock, a decision on what to do eluded

me. I stayed for five weeks here. I walked and ate and slept came home to pack for

school much refreshed.

I was ready. For anything.


End file.
